


beneath satin and lace

by Hymn



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Crystal Tokyo Era, Happy Ending, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Porn, Pre-Crystal Tokyo, Silver Millennium Era, Some angst, i'm honestly uncertain, let me know if i missed any tags pls!, problematic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-04
Updated: 2007-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-07 13:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14672319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hymn/pseuds/Hymn
Summary: No matter the millennia, no matter their memories, no matter the circumstance -- Kunzite and Zoisite come together, again and again. They are who they are.In the mirror, Zoisite’s face was stark white against the copper of his curls, the vivid red of his lipstick. His green eyes were too wide, outlined in thick, angry lines of black, and his earrings chimed golden in the twisted light; Zoisite himself was trembling as he applied mascara.Kunzite entered without permission, unannounced, as if he had an undeniable right. Zoisite clenched his teeth, and held the brush tighter. “Yes, General?”





	beneath satin and lace

**Author's Note:**

> for springkink, Kunzite/Zoisite: Cross-dressing - "begging on my knees/baby, won't you please/run your fingers through my hair?" - a five times fic

1.  
They were in Zoisite’s guest room mostly because despite being generals, they were _young_ generals, and the appeal of being in a girl’s room and examining all the girl things with sideways glances and curious half-touches was more than any of them could bear. The dare itself was inevitable, so they all settled into the game and the night, candles burning and dripping down sconces, all four of them scattered on the dark, lush furniture of the girl’s room Zoisite was borrowing. Jadeite reclined on tasseled pillows, and no one was surprised when, eventually, he said, “Zoisite. I dare yoooou.”

Having been resigned to being the first dared into it, Zoisite was surprised when he nonetheless felt a fission of anticipation rattle down his spine. He didn’t let it show, kept it hidden, a strange question in the back of his mind, while he let his green eyes go half lidded and dangerously expectant. He smirked, and drawled, “Yes?”

Impish, Jadeite waggled his eyebrows, and finished his dare. “Put on some of these frilly things! I dare you to wear the girl’s clothes. And no cutting corners,” Jadeite threatened mock seriously. “You have to go allll the way.”

Easily enough, he thought around the dryness in his mouth. “All right,” he murmured, with a shrug of one shoulder. Nephrite clapped his hands, mouth twisted in amusement, and Zoisite rose up with a sinuous twist, staring at Jadeite all the while in haughty challenge. “You boys enjoy the show.”

His lips were dry, but he made sure to lick them more like it was intentional, than because he was nervous. The clasps of his uniform unsnapped easily, and soon his jacket was off, thrown carelessly over a chair. He put his feet up next, first one and then the other, tugging off his heavy boots, his socks. His feet looked narrow and pale against the dark carpeting. 

Generously, Jadeite and Nephrite supplied a beat for Zoisite to laugh to, to fling his head back, shaking out his bright curls from their habitual confine. The rest of his clothes were soon discarded, and it was the simplest matter in the world to open up the chest at the foot of the bed, and spill out its treasures.

And then Zoisite became aware of Kunzite’s eyes, steady on him, and his hands trembled, just a little, and that fission of – was it really just anticipation? – excitement shivered and pricked its way down his spine again, but this time it left faint wisps of itself curled up in his stomach, and, oh, wow. 

Slow, he pulled the skirts on over his head, smoothed it down his thighs, and swished it around his legs; smoothed his hands up, over the corset top, molding it to his chest. Reaching back, he pulled his hair round to the side, smooth, sensual, and then he glanced over his shoulder, mouth just slightly open, cheeks just slightly pink; asked, “Kunzite, do me up?”

Kunzite’s fingers were callused, and cool.

2.  
Zoisite dashed between the columns, the dark hiding him as well as the silence. The skirts made steady swishing sounds as he moved, almost too quiet to be heard; almost, but not quite. Kunzite caught him in an alcove just outside the entrance to the Eastern Wing of the palace.

“This is dangerous,” Kunzite murmured into his ear even as he shoved him back, drove him back against a cold marble wall, and bracketed him in. Zoisite grinned, a half purring, half laughing curve of daring insolence. 

“That’s half the fun.” Heat shivered up through him, burning out from the feel of Kunzite’s hands on him, of where his body hit the wall. Kunzite made a scoffing sound deep in his throat, as if to deny it, even though Zoisite could see the truth in the other general’s eyes; in the hard length of him pressed tight against Zoisite’s hip. He shivered, and writhed, just slightly. Looked up at Kunzite coyly beneath his lashes.

When they kissed, it was hard and hungry, full of tongues and teeth, until Kunzite set his canines into Zoisite’s lower lip, and bit until Zoisite gasped, his eyes nearly rolling up in his head, body slackening, melting into Kunzite’s grasp.

Kunzite’s hands brushed down Zoisite’s corset clad waist, pulled tighter than it ought to be. “I don’t know how you can run in this,” Kunzite murmured, pulling back before leaning back down and licking along the inside of Zoisite’s mouth. Kunzite reached around, tugged on the laces. Zoisite felt all the blood leave his head, entirely; most of it had already been centered around his cock, anyway.

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, fingers clawing at Kunzite. They were clothed in satin gloves, a pretty russet brown that matched the gown he wore; his legs were in stockings, but not shoes. Heels would have been too loud on the marble floors. It would have ruined their game.

Kunzite’s eyes were hot. “Good idea,” he said, and then stepped back abruptly. Before Zoisite could even cry out at the loss, Kunzite had him turned around, one hand pushing down at his neck, so that when he instinctively slapped his palms out to catch himself on the wall, he was bent at the waist. Heat flared through him, thrummed straight down to his throbbing cock. His skirts were tighter closer to the waist, and the slightly scratchy feel of the tulle under layer was both torment and pleasure.

Heat plastered against Zoisite’s back, molded there. Kunzite leaned against him, twisting his fingers in Zoisite’s skirts, and quietly murmuring, “You look lovely tonight,” while trusting him to take his weight, nonetheless. Trusting him to be strong enough, even trussed up, with rouge on and powder and delicate scents adorning his neck and wrists. 

“T-thank you,” Zoisite laughed, shivering while Kunzite pulled his skirts up, slowly, rustling against the backs of his stocking clad calves and thighs and then his bare ass, as he flipped the voluminous skirt over.

“Lovely,” Kunzite whispered.

3.  
In the mirror, Zoisite’s face was stark white against the copper of his curls, the vivid red of his lipstick. His green eyes were too wide, outlined in thick, angry lines of black, and his earrings chimed golden in the twisted light; Zoisite himself was trembling as he applied mascara.

Kunzite entered without permission, unannounced, as if he had an undeniable right. Zoisite clenched his teeth, and held the brush tighter. “Yes, General?”

Kunzite eyed him over slowly, cold gray eyes taking in every detail. Zoisite wasn’t quite dressed; only lingerie, lacy and a pale gold, and though in normal circumstances his shoulders would be too broad for the straps to keep sliding like they did, Zoisite always needed to let the straps out far, so that the lacy neck line veed sharply down past his collar bones, and was almost, but not quite, low enough to give a tantalizingly naked view of his nipples. Instead, the sheer fabric of the camisole obscured them. 

“Carry on,” Kunzite told him, voice giving away nothing, just a cold chill that lit fire across Zoisite’s nerves.

“…yes, sir.”

He finished putting on his makeup, though he hated to have people watch him. It took the magic from it, in a way; it was like wearing a costume, or a mask, and while Zoisite didn’t so much mind it when Kunzite saw beneath that mask, he would have preferred if Kunzite hadn’t seen the application of it. But he was still raw and shaking from Beryl’s punishment, and Kunzite’s heavy, watching eyes were an anchor, a solid weight that reminded Zoisite where he belonged. 

Sighing, he finished adding blush; Kunzite came up behind him, his large, cool hand stroking the tense muscles of his neck firmly. Shivering, Zoisite put his brush down, and closed his eyes, just enjoying it; so he didn’t see when Kunzite’s other hand reached around to his front. He felt it, though, when Kunzite’s thumb stroked across his nipple, the calluses there catching on both the material and the nub, already sensitized by the constant, gentle swish of the lingerie. 

He opened his eyes on a gasp, and was immediately arrested by Kunzite’s eyes in the mirror, too real and unflinchingly cold. “You can’t hide from who you were,” Kunzite murmured, just barely smirking as his fingers pinched Zoisite’s nipple cruelly. The coppery haired man arched, making a soft noise in the back of his throat, before he hissed, “I know that.”

“Hm.” Kunzite’s hands left him entirely, but he pressed his front to Zoisite’s back, overwhelming, as he reached for a pearl necklace lying on the counter. The pearls were cold and heavy sliding around his neck, and Zoisite lifted his hair up with almost steady hands so that Kunzite could work the clasp.

“Very nice,” Kunzite rumbled, “I’ll take you just like this, against the mirror, so you can watch when I pull your panties down, run my hand up beneath the satin and lace, and fuck you.” 

4.  
“Classy,” Kunzite murmured sardonically, as Zoisite fell gracefully to his knees. Zoisite’s lips twisted at the irony, and he looked up beneath his lashes, and said, “I know.”

It was a simple matter to get Kunzite out of his pants, his legs planted and spread as he leaned back in his chair. He rested his chin on one fisted hand, the other gripping the chair arm calmly, watching Zoisite work. It would have been intimidating, if Zoisite didn’t know him, didn’t love and want him so badly it hurt, almost constantly. 

And if Kunzite hadn’t already been half hard. He lifted a brow, his fingers trailing over the erection and slowly coaxing it to swell even more, until it was a heavy weight in his hands. Zoisite settled more comfortably on his knees, letting the folds of his skirt rustle around his thighs. His cock was trapped in his panties, but that didn’t matter. 

He lent down, swallowed Kunzite whole, and thrilled to feel him a hard, solid length in his watering, hungry mouth. He moaned around Kunzite’s cock, and felt it twitch in response. Slowly, obscenely, he pulled back, dragging his lips and swirling his tongue. “My lip gloss is all over your dick,” he said with cat-like amusement.

In a rough, growl of a voice, Kunzite said, “Then lick it off,” before reaching with one hand, fisting it in Zoisite’s hair, and directing. Huffing a laugh, Zoisite got back to work on his impatient lover, one hand reaching past to fondle Kunzite’s balls, the other reaching down, dragging the hem of his skirt up, trailing goosebumps over his skin until he could slip his hand down, press it against the front of his pre-come damp panties, and rock. 

He moaned around Kunzite, again, and Kunzite made a hungry, vicious sound, tightening his hands; Zoisite let himself surrender to that touch, let Kunzite move him however he wanted; relaxed his body and opened his throat so that Kunzite could fuck his mouth raw, and shiny and red even without his lip gloss. 

Zoisite’s toes were beginning to curl in the heels he was wearing, was pretty sure he was probably rubbing holes in his hose at his knees as he shifted and shuddered against the floor. Kunzite rocked him back and forth, his scent filling Zoisite’s nose, consuming all his senses, until all he could think of was Kunzite, Kunzite hard and demanding over him, in him, on him. With a quiet cry Kunzite pulled back, abruptly, his hand tightening at the nape of Zoisite’s neck so that he melted and looked up from beneath half lidded eyes, panting. 

Kunzite’s eyes were hot and hungry and possessive as he came, shooting over Zoisite’s face, onto his neck and chest, over his elegant blouse, ruining it. Zoisite gasped, moaned, the action sending lust stabbing straight down to his cock; it was all he could do to slip his hand beneath the elastic of his panties, and fist once, before coming.

5.  
Getting used to Crystal Tokyo would take some time, but Zoisite figured that, after two eras of getting it wrong, it was about time that they got it right. It would just take a little patience, and while Zoisite didn’t have that in abundance, he could make do. 

The fact that Venus was happily situated with Mars helped, since it meant that she and Zoisite could enjoy ridiculously extravagant shopping trips without bitterness or it being overly awkward. Endymion came over one day after they were settled into their new apartment, and caught him in the midst of unpacking. 

Slightly unfortunate for Endymion, as he caught him right after Zoisite had become distracted by a very pretty yellow sundress that he’d thought he had lost. It was quick, thoughtless shimmy out of his sweats and into the dress, and then when it was on, cool and billowy and cute on his trim, lean form, he couldn’t resist digging through two more boxes to find the sandals that went with it. 

He was standing in front of the floor length mirror that was propped against his and Kunzite’s bedroom wall, admiring the way the skirt fell around his thighs, the way the heels of the sandals stretched his already long legs even longer. He ruffled his hair; let the curls hang down around his bare shoulders, against his neck. The dress fell flat and sleek along his chest, and he turned sideways so he could tie the bow at the back.

That was when Endymion teleported into the room, one foot in – thankfully – empty box. Zoisite quirked an eyebrow at his King through the mirror, taking in the way the man blinked, and his jaw dropped as he stared. 

“You have no room to say anything, Endy,” Zoisite said, smirking. “Have you seen the color purple you wear?”

“I…well.” Endymion cleared his throat, and suddenly seemed to realize that he was in a box. He hopped out, a flush coming out in his cheeks. “…did you always wear dresses, or is this a new development?”

Zoisite laughed. “You never were the most observant, were you?”

“No,” said Kunzite dryly, from the doorway of the room. Zoisite couldn’t help the smile the stretched across his face at his appearance. “Nor was he ever very good at teleportation. Hello, love,” he said softly, coming over and wrapping his arms around Zoisite. “What’s the occasion?”

Zoisite shrugged, grinning slyly as he wound his arms around Kunzite’s broad shoulders, reached up to tuck some of his white hair behind his ear. “No occasion. I just got bored.”

“Oh no, lock up the women and children,” Kunzite muttered wryly, leaning down slowly as Zoisite leaned up, a wicked light in his eyes.

Endymion coughed, uncomfortable and amused. “Uh…I’ll just be going then?”

Awareness of others came back to Kunzite’s eyes abruptly, but Zoisite locked his arms around his neck and smugly refused to let him go. “Good idea,” he purred, before going in for the kiss.


End file.
